


Spitfire

by BlueNanners



Series: Spitfire AU [1]
Category: Gorillaz
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Demons, M/M, RP, Roleplay, Roleplay thread, Spitfire au, gorillaz au, rp thread
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:28:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26241172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueNanners/pseuds/BlueNanners
Summary: An RP thread between me and @stupotato on tumblr, featuring a demon Murdoc and a Stuart who is quite the oddball. Will get kinky in later chapters, and tags will be added where I see fit. replies will have "~~" between them to indicate a change in writers.
Relationships: Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot
Series: Spitfire AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1906144
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	1. Karaoke Night

There was something so obscenely satisfying about the streets of London on a dank, cloudy evening like this one. The humidity in the air clung to one’s skin, the smell of smoke, bile and the distance stench of jet fuel was palpable on the tongue. It became so dreadfully dreary after sundown, and Murdoc wouldn’t have it any other way. He felt so at home on these streets, the many drunks and various shady characters he passed while his cigarette streaked a thin line of smoke back to where he’d come from felt like neighbors, or partners in arms to the dreadfully dull and almost cookie-cutter feel of the city during the daytime. Damn the tourists and goody-goodies that zipped around between various French-themed pastry shops and ancient looking bookstores. The real soul of this city laid in the dark, cobbled alleyways and the piss-drenched pubs tucked away into the farthest corners of the city. 

Murdoc had gotten so very distracted with people watching (and earning a few suspicions little glares in the process) that he’d failed to notice the bright cherry of his cigarette had burned down to his knuckles. He jerked his hand backwards with a faint hiss when the heat bit into his skin, the still lit butt tumbling down to the uneven brick work below his boots. Under the foggy streetlamp above his head, Murdoc brought up his hand to inspect the small charred mark his cancer-stick had branded into him. It took very little effort to wick away an injury so small. He watched the corners of that tiny burn go vaguely green around its edges before shrinking, and eventually sinking right into his skin, as if it’d never been there. Murdoc shook the odd, fuzzy feeling from his once injured mitt, reaching back to pull a half-empty pack from his back pocket and light up another fag for his little stroll.

He wasn’t simply wandering aimlessly this fine evening. While Murdoc definitely was the type to fill his evenings with pointless wandering, if only to catch the alluring sight of a shady business deal or the far more humorous one of a pissed-drunk bloke getting tossed out on his ass from the pub, there was something far more meaningful on the agenda tonight. He didn’t exactly have a plan to seek out what he needed, though. Plans were something Murdoc reserved for making a quick buck lifting something expensive from one of the few shops that didn’t recognize his face, not something as vital as a good meal. Sure it would pay to figure one out, maybe he’d spend a few less nights positively clawing at himself from hunger and the frustration of an unsatisfied appetite, but there was something so organic and thrilling about going with the flow, seeing where the evenings took him and stumbling upon what he needed based on pure luck alone. 

Tonight, he was cutting It a bit close. Holding down his disguise was a bit of a struggle, to say the least, so he’d started rationing his powers. When the shadows enveloped him on his walk and he was certain not a soul was in sight, his tannish skin would shift into its natural, murky green hue. Two tiny, pointy horns would spring up from his mop of black hair, a long, spaded tail would snake free of his trousers and whip lazily behind him while he strolled. His blunted fingernails would extend out into shiny black points, the vaguely yellowed teeth tucked behind almost perpetually scowling lips would taper and sharpen into fangs, his olive green irises would tinge red and black. Once free of the comfort of darkness, or whenever a shambling homeless person would wander by, it was right back to his- dare he say - devilishly handsome camouflage.

Being a demon was no cake walk. Murdoc wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world, of course. Even if the Angel Gabriel himself descended from heaven and extended one glowing palm his direction, promising laughter and light and forgiveness for every horrible atrocity Murdoc had ever committed, the hellspawn would simple cackle in his face, maybe even hock a loogey at the prim bastard, just for good measure. It did get a bit annoying, constantly having to rely on the sins of downtrodden (or just gullible) humans to stay alive. More substantial meals were tougher to come by, especially nowadays. It wasn’t often he’d get to binge on the rage and wrath pouring off of some murderous bloke in the midst of a slaughter, he’d mostly have to get by on little dribs and drabs of fury pouring off of ranting and raving drunkards. 

Sloth wasn’t a sin he enjoyed, it tasted grimy and bitter, like an old sock left to stew under the sofa. Gluttony was one he’d peruse once and a while if he was desperate (though he often couldn’t stand the humans who indulged in it for very long), greed and envy too, but pride was right fucking out. He was a prideful demon himself and loathed having to share the spotlight with any aimless chum who got a bit too big for his britches on lady’s night. Feeding off of pride meant building humans up, coaxing and encouraging them to feel like the hottest shit on the block and oh, Murdoc would never stoop so low as to damn near worship the pitiful stain on this world that humans were. He respected himself far too much.

Wrath was Murdoc’s sin of choice. A lover of gore and violence, it was easy to see why, but on a night like this one something else was tickling his nostrils, a faint whiff of something sweet and vaguely familiar on the wind, buried beneath the ugly grime and mold of the city surrounding him.

As a streetlight steadily approached the green creature on his casual stroll, he slipped so easily back into his human form, sliding back into the role of a leather clad, vaguely Spanish looking fellow with a pension for tobacco and fine Cuban boots. Beyond that street corner, he heard the incessant thumping of some song from the 80’s, a vaguely familiar little tune that was being positively screeched over by some absolutely pished 30 year old woman with the most devastating cockney accent he’d heard in a long while. Normally, he would never in a million years step into such a place for karaoke night of all things, but the scent he’d been following for some time now was suddenly stronger at the neon-drenched entrance of the place. He wasn’t thrilled about the development, but hey, he could go for a drink. 

As Murdoc sauntered his way inside his senses were muddled over by a barrage of different smells. Whiskey, piss, cigarette smoke, the sour smell of envy from across the way (likely from that blond broad who was glaring daggers at some hefty brunette while she ground up on an nondescript, gigolo looking gaffer), the muggy stench of gluttony, and of course that sweeter note that Murdoc had yet to find the source of. He ashed his cigarette into an abandoned pint before hopping up onto the bar, facing the stage when that poor, blitzed crone finally finished out her rendition of Don’t Stop Believing with an over excited whoop.

“Old fashioned,” He mumbled to the barkeep, rolling his eyes as she stumbled her way off stage. He likely wouldn’t be staying here for long, he was already planning on chugging his drink and bolting, but the next person up on that musty platform quickly caught the demon’s attention. A shock of blue hair, nice, tight-fitting clothing (if a bit garish in color), and pitch black eyes. Oh, those had to be contacts, he thought to himself, but what an odd look to sport out in public like this, especially in such a crummy dive. The tall, twiggy looking fellow stumbled across the stage and fisted for the mic, bringing it to his lips for a meek-sounding “’Ello,” which only had feedback screeching through the speakers. Murdoc barked out a laugh, loudly, making a grab for his own drink once it was set down in front of him and taking a greedy swig. He supposed he could stick around for the show, this was bound to be humorous

~~ 

Stuart was definitely the sort that could be picked out in the middle of a crowd without any difficulty. His features were almost as ethereal as they were androgynous. His jaw had some sharpness that suggested his actual sex but at first glance it was easy to mistake him for the other what with his thick eyelashes and smoothly shaved mug. His hair was shockingly blue and he must have had a damn good stylist because there wasn't a hint of root to be spotted along his scalp. The back had been cropped shorter and his bangs hung to about the level where they could brush his collarbones while the fringe above his forehead hung to just barely brush his eyebrows. And those eyes. So dark that they almost gave the illusion of being hollow which was an effect created and accentuated by the slightly puffed bags beneath his eyes that proved, despite his fantastic complexion, he wasn't wearing lick of make-up. They were prominent stains of unhealthy blue-purple and pinkish undertones just on the edge of the lower lids. Somehow it didn't seem to mar his looks by any means but give him a sort of soft, sleepy look that was attractive in its own right.

The man's wardrobe was of questionable but somehow still fashionable taste. Black bondage trousers that had been fit with straps in an 'x' that hung behind his knees amongst a myriad of buckles and zippers. Beneath those were some club kid boots with a few more buckles for good measure, the tops cutting off mid-shin where two lines of zippers down the front of each leg vanished beneath and the heels a platform wedge of a good few inches but not a terribly extreme arch of the foot. He'd no right with his height, really, but fashion must. His chest and his neck up to where it met his jawbone was covered in a vinyl top, a shock of red that left his arms uncovered that seemed absolutely poured on with how it fit his frame. Above this was what had to have been a custom garment in the form of a psuedo-straitjacket. The sides were cut high to the sides of an open front, just along his ribcage, but the sleeves were terribly long with hanging buckle and belt ends for effect. The garment itself was white with black accents in the straps on the arms, sides, and the open 'collar' one that lay to either side of his covered throat. It was a lewk, for sure.

The boy had found himself out for another night on a town. Bit of a drifter, doing odd jobs here and there and mostly couch-crashing at the houses of friends and strangers alike. Apt to play things by ear, that's just how the current evening had started after he'd woken up at the last bird's house amongst tousled sheets and slipped out of the flat while she was still resting. Few hours later and he had found himself at the karaoke bar where he had been for the last half hour or so, scoping out his next free meal and a place to hang his hat for an evening or two. 

Stu had put his name up onto the list on a whim after he'd entered the bar and found it was karaoke night. Why not, right? He had a lovely voice so he may as well use it. Plus, it was nice to have someone decent on the mic, especially after a trainwreck like the last minger that had the mic in her hands. He'd be a right treat after that. Soon enough his turn was up and he had gotten up onto the short stage that was off to the back corner of the room so it was easily viewed by all of the bar.

For as shocking as his look was, the man's nature didn't seem to match. With the way he had crossed the stage he had almost looked unsure in his tall footwear and it had taken him a few awkward moments to bunch up both of his sleeves to the point he had his hands free for the mic. Really should have thought to do that earlier but oh well. Stu's hands were revealed with nails painted red to match his top (no stone left unturned for detail!) and soon he had grabbed the microphone. 

"'Ello," he'd attempted as a greeting only to be met with a pitchy sound before he had shuffled slightly away from the nearby speaker. He didn't bother to try and repeat it. Karaoke didn't require introduction, did it? Speaking of intros, the one to the song he had selected had begun and the bar had been filled with low, moody notes. Stu lifted the mic and took a slow breath, glancing once at the prompter before he had decided he didn't need it and turned to more properly face the crowd.

"I've been a bad, baaad girl... I've been careless with a delicate man." Seems the bluenette wasn't the type to bother changing the lyrics of the track to attempt to protect any frail masculinity or anything of the sort. Clearly he must have been quite comfortable with himself with what he was wearing so the lack of change wasn't really surprising by any means. "And it's a sad, saaad world when a girl will break a boy just because she can." 

His voice was well past 'decent' and despite his earlier awkwardness it seemed a performer's calm had washed over him. While it was hard to tell he had those black eyes downturned as if ashamed when he had started to move into the next bit of the first verse. His eyes scanned the room in that instant. He'd spotted a few recognized faces, a few more strangers that didn't pull his interest at all, and finally one man at the bar that he'd definitely hadn't seen before and he had something about him that he couldn't help but feel drawn to. "Don't you tell me to deny it," he crooned, wagging a finger of the hand not holding the microphone slowly from side to side, "I've done wrong and I wanna suffer for my sins." The emphasized word had been accented with an almost pained scrunching of his features over a sly sort of smile  
Stuart looked again toward that man at the bar for the next line. Even if Murdoc hadn't been looking at him, he'd sung those next words 'toward' that stranger in particular. "I've come to you," he began, extending his hand out, "Cos I need guidance to be true and I just don't know where I can begin..."

~~ 

As far as Murdoc was concerned, that one bum screech into the mic was proof enough that the whackily dressed singer who had taken the stage was nothing more than a bizarre looking hack. Probably just some buzzed prostitute looking for five minutes of public attention, if that outfit was anything to go off of. Murdoc recognized that song choice immediately, it was a hit after all, but he didn’t glance up from his drink after his one rude chortle. He’d gone back to glancing around the bar for any interesting characters. This squeaky-sounding, vinyl-clad train wreck had lost his attention as soon as he’d fumbled his introduction. Murdoc dragged his thumbnail around the rim of his glass while the moody intro to that sexy little number started out. He was bracing himself for more wretched notes and another ham-fisted, ear-raping performance. The demon’s nose must’ve been off that evening, or something. Truly there was no reason to stop in here, sweet smell be damned, besides getting a bit of a buzz going.

He’s eying up a busty broad from across the way when the first verse began. Murdoc was about ready to throw on the charm and saunter over for a quick flirt and fuck in the grimy bathroom stalls he knew were tucked away in the back, but as he stood up and clutched that glass of his, a melodic sort of voice halted him in his tracks. He stopped dead, his head whipping back towards the stage with a look of awestruck shock because there was absolutely no way that voice, befitting a siren not some blue-haired head case, had come from the man in front of him.

He stared as that once anxious looking wreck sauntered around the stage like he owned it, not glancing once towards the teleprompter to his left as the lyrics poured from his parted lips in perfect time and tone, like he’d practiced for months. It was almost humorous now long Murdoc just stared at the spectacle, his eyes locked on that mysterious bluenette’s slim physique with far more intent than before. He was truly studying the man now, rather than offering a passing glance toward an odd looking stranger. Slowly, Murdoc sunk back into his seat, that random floozy completely forgotten as all of his attention shifted to this colorfully dressed, oddly talented fellow. It was a dazzling performance. 

Alluring, sultry, eye catching. Not only was the stranger’s voice perfect, but he such stage presence, a direct contrast to the bumbling idiot Murdoc had so quickly dismissed before. Now that he’d zeroed in on the guy, he finally realized this- this gifted, fashionista freak, was the source of that fruity scent. Pride and lust dripped off of him in droves, he was absolutely basking in the attention of the bar goers, a rapt silence falling over the crowd around them. Murdoc wouldn’t be shocked if this guy turned out to be an incubus, what with how quickly he’d won over the hearts of many in that audience. That was impossible, surely, he had such a good demon-dar, but it was an interesting thought.

To the demon’s surprise, they locked eyes. He jolted faintly when the next set of lyrics were sung directly at him, not just in front of him. A manicured palm was extended his way and Murdoc found himself leaning forwards eagerly, his drink forgotten about while the promise of a new kind of drug reeled him in like a trout on a hook. He swallowed dryly, realizing his stunned expression. Satan, was his hunger getting the better of him.

He needed to keep it together, keep his cool, he wanted to do this right, play this little game that pretty boy was proposing with such a confident gesture thrown his way. Murdoc smiled so sweetly at Stuart. He let his tongue flick barely against his lower lip as he took in the human’s performance. His fingers gripped back around his drink and he brought it back up to his lips, making a bit of a show of downing the rest of it. The glass drained, he pushed it forwards on the bar without looking at it, eyes positively trained on those slim, swaying hips and lovely black eyes. He let his elbow prop up against the bar in front of him so he could set his vaguely stubbled jaw against his palm. Finally found his meal for the evening, that was for sure.

~~

The boy was a natural showman, and quite the showman at that. Completely unlike his previous stumbling he'd stepped smoothly in the platform boots he was wearing and every wave and shift of the arm not holding the microphone had been fluid. Those red fingernails moved in hypnotizing patterns with his words and his hips had worked in sensual gyrations with ease. And he'd clearly seen the video as well as he had infused that same sort of 'tainted' innocence. Something easily taken advantage of and made to do unspeakable things. Maybe he was headed that way with his attention fixated on the man across the bar. He hoped so, at least. 

It was clear Stuart was truly relishing in the multitude of eyes on him. Between his dress, his voice, and his raw sexuality it was quite a sight and he damn well knew it. There was something nearly supernatural to his energy, that much was for sure. An undeniable pull that demanded the attention that he wanted. He'd earned the attention of the room but the one he had truly been interested in now certainly had his eyes on him and he'd felt a rush of unadulterated lust spark deep within him.

God, he looks delicious. But Stu had to be patient, as much as he loathed to. Couldn't just cut the song short, could he? Disappoint his audience? Never! So he continued with his performance. "Let me know the way before there's hell to pay. Give me room to lay the law and let me go..." Stuart leveled his gaze on the older man's, expression one of pining. "I've got to make a play to make my lover stay," he belted, hips giving a solid and decidedly lewd buck of his hips along with a clap of his hand over his crotch.

"So what would an angel say?" The boy sank down to his knees on that line, no easy feat with the footwear he was sporting, and had placed his free hand up in half of a praying pose before he snapped his hand up to create 'horns' with his thumb and pinky which were put in place by settling his wrist against his forehead as he threw his head back at the end of the line, "The devil wants to know!" The note was held, steady and powerful as the boy leaned further and further back until his spine had taken a dramatic arch and his shoulder blades hit the floor. His legs were spread wide to accommodate the position and his heels were tucked back beneath his arse to prop his bum a bit to ease the pose. It was practiced to perfection and meant to display his body as gravity pulled the coat back off of his shoulders.

He reversed the motion of leaning back so effortlessly that it almost seemed off, like someone had pressed rewind and whipped himself forward to switch to leaning forward with his hand coming to slam against the ground for dramatic effect. "What I need is a good defense cos I'm feelin' like a criminal! And I need to be redeemed to the one I've sinned against because he's all I ever knew of love..." The rolling notes of the last line, replicated to perfection from the original, was enhanced with a rhythmic rocking downward of his hips, knees sliding out a little with each roll only to swing in again as he reset. 

It was almost lewd, like he was rocking down onto a partner rather than performing on stage in some dive. His voice rose to vocalizations to fill out the end of the track, free hand tracing the front of his body up along his neck to thread through his hair before roaming back downward in random, slow sweeps. By the end of things he'd picked himself up from the floor and as the track ran to its end he took a broad bow, soaking in all the further attention and praise his audience had to give him once he was done.

"Thank you!" Again the boy's announcement had been wrecked by some feedback as he had traveled closer to the emcee to give the microphone back. It almost seemed like a sort of mystic bookend to things; the moment Stu had handed the microphone back he was back to his unsure stepping as he'd left the stage. Clearly he was some sort of fucking eccentric or just had some level of untold damage but that didn't make his performance any less enticing when it was happening. He stepped down from the stage and made a beeline for the bar. His long legs, made even longer by those damned boots, had made it quite easy for him to make his way toward the stranger at the bar. He could really give a shit about anyone else right then. Just as he had grabbed Murdoc's attention, Murdoc now had his.


	2. Negotiation

"Saw you watching," Stu said, smiling a little bit. His sleeves had been allowed to fall as he walked so when he had lifted a hand to sweep his bangs out of his face a bit the fabric had come with, large buckle hanging on the end of it flopping around for the duration of the action. With him as close as he had decided to step, nearly invading Murdoc's personal bubble, it was inarguable that the scent that had drawn Murdoc to the bar was absolutely dripping off of the blue haired boy. 

Stuart glanced around for a couple seconds, eyes lingering back toward the bathroom before they had eventually come back to rest upon Murdoc. "Did you like what you saw?" In that moment he hadn't seemed prideful at all. He seemed legitimately curious and hopeful, like he was hoping to get a good grade on a project rather than flirt. His voice was a far cry from his singing tones but not unpleasant despite its somewhat pitchy nature. "Cos some people like private shows and, well, you kinda looked like you might want one?" 

The strange boy had giggled then, grinning big and revealing that his front two teeth were fucking AWOL. From the previous distance it could well have seemed like a trick of shifty bar lighting but he was definitely missing a couple pearly whites now that he could be examined up close. Somehow it was almost endearing on him rather than a turn-off. No small feat. "Plus you're cute so I'll give you a special price," Stu purred with a wink before laughing with his mouth partially covered by a sleeved hand. Maybe cute wasn't the word to describe the demon beside him but he really seemed to think it appropriate somehow.

~~ 

And here Murdoc thought those lovely vocalizations would be the end of his surprise. He’d anticipated some hip swaying, perhaps a vague gesture with his fingers here and there and even a sexy drag of his palm down his front when the lad really decided to get into it. He was impressed already, there was no doubt about that, but Murdoc hardly expected to be gob smacked by this strange fellow’s moves. It wasn’t all that much to be excited about at first. The strange patterns those bright fingernails traced as well as the well-timed sways of his hips were little more than visually appealing. Certainly fit the mood of the track, that was for sure, even earned the spry man a few drunken woops and the occasional wolf-whistle from the bar’s many female patrons. Murdoc just chuckled once, he didn’t need to resort to cheering and making a fool of himself like the other patrons were so eager to. He already had the strange man’s attention. 

He bit at the inside of his cheek when Stu fixed him with such a longing look, eyebrows hiking up underneath that dense fringe of his at a particularly firm thrust of those slim hips. Satan, he looked good. It took a lot of self-restraint to stay put, show very little interest beyond a quick smirk or nod to the beat of the song. He’s dead set on keeping his image picture perfect. He could nail the mysterious stranger across the bar look with ease on a good night, but with such a promiscuous performance, that smell and his instincts screaming at him to find a morsel of sin, it was a bit more of a feat than usual this evening. His breath actually hitched when the bluenette’s knees hit the stage, a hot throb of need pulsing through him when his head was tossed back with vigor, throat bared to an ecstatic audience. Oh, he wanted nothing more than to rush the stage, dig his fangs into that jugular and-

His claws dug into the wood of the bar in front of him. They’d gone shiny black and long while his thoughts wandered, his skin going the faintest shade of green, though that could very easily be played off as atrick of the light, there was so much neon in here, after all. He focused hard on maintaining composure, glancing down at himself for a beat while he willed his nails to revert back to something more human. He was successful, but the glossy black color remained. Whatever, it wasn’t like anyone was really paying attention to his nails in the first place. He tossed a glance towards the barkeep and tapped his nail against his glass in a silent plea for more booze, something to even him out, and he was met with a nod. By the time his focus had wandered back to that performance the younger looking man was lurching forwards, palm slapping hard against the stage as he caught himself moments before smacking face-first into the black painted plywood. My, how dramatic. 

Murdoc gripped the edge of the bar as the stranger bucked his hips into the air beneath him, as if fucking into some spectral partner the rest of the crowd couldn’t see. It was maddening, just as much as it was alluring. The older man didn’t tear his gaze away for a moment for the rest of that performance, short lived as it was, and god was he glad he didn’t have to wait long for it to end. As much as he’d enjoyed the show, his appetite was starting to get the better of him. He could keep it together, there was no risk of him losing control for some time yet, and often he found meals more satisfying the longer he had to starve himself. Perhaps not the healthiest of habits, but he was a demon, what did he care about health? The bartender set his second drink down in front of him and Murdoc glanced away from Stu’s flourished little bow to pluck up his drink with a thank you and a wink.

He tossed his head back to gulp the amber liquid down without a moment to lose. He wasn’t the type to sit and savor his substances, but to binge and guzzle. By the time he’d swilled every last drop of his drink and tilted his head back down, he’s met with the performer himself. Ah, convenient. Murdoc would’ve happily chased the guy down after such steamy eye contact but it was definitely a treat to be approached first. He was holding all of the cards now, wasn’t he? He reaches out to set down his glass, starting out with an cool sounding, “Evening,” but the blue-haired singer was already hurtling right ahead with his observation, saw you watching. He laughed once. 

Did you like what you saw? “Think everyone in the bar did, love,” Murdoc hummed lowly, dragging one knuckle across his lips to wipe away what remained of his drink. The proposition of a private show was definitely not one he was expecting. He should’ve guessed- in fact he had guessed -the odd man’s apparent line of work from his get up alone, but he was still reeling a bit from just how different his speaking and singing voice were. He reached behind himself to pluck a red carton of cigs from his back pocket and place one between his lips, nice and slow like he was really debating whether or not to take up the younger on the offer his body was screaming at him to. Saying yes would get his rocks off quicker, but that would end this little game of theirs so quickly, wouldn’t it? Nothing wrong with playing hard to get. Been a looonng while since a human had specifically propositioned him first, and the guy hardly even seemed drunk! Imagine that.

“Special price, eh?” He pondered aloud, flicking his zippo and lighting the end of his fag before blowing one smoke ring into the space between them. The rest of that smoke was exhaled through his nose. “Can’t I get a name first? Maybe buy you a drink?” He sounded so coy, as he motioned to the empty stool beside him. “You always advertise your services with karaoke tunes and dance numbers?” Good lord he smells so good. Murdoc faintly inhaled just to indulge in that scent, though he kept it subtle. No quicker way to scare someone off than sniff at them like some overzealous bloodhound, as much as Murdoc wanted to.

~~ 

Stuart's eyes had flit about Murdoc's person quite quickly. The motion was terribly hard to detect save for a slight jittering of the reflections of the bar lights in those black pools. Rather, they weren't quite black as looking into them with a direct light of any sort showed a deep blood red colouration with a lighter patch of red on the inside that could be assumed to be where his iris and pupil were supposed to be properly present. It was almost a blessing that his eyelashes tended to cast a bit of shadow or else he'd really look a mite creepy. Well, he already nearly did but there was an appeal to him all the same. One thing was for sure, though: those weren't contacts.

The fool was clearly forward and Murdoc's lack of surprise in his profession hadn't garnered much of a reaction in the singer. He hadn't said it to shock or anything like that anyway. Just a matter-of-fact offering of services and at a discounted rate to boot! "Yeah, special price," Stu repeated. That said, there still seemed something off about all of it. Or, rather, off about the blue haired enigma in front of the demon. His posture and demeanor were almost shy despite the bold offer he had put out on the table and his actions were effeminate and verging on childlike what with him covering his mouth or swinging his fabric-drowned hands as he spoke. He seemed almost as truly innocent as the energy he had projected at the beginning of the song. Only thing that stood in the way was the already revealed fact that he was a rentboy.

The proposition Stuart had gotten shortly after his own had caused the kid's brows to rise up high on his face. He looked almost curiously toward the other man, sizing him up a little as he towered over the bloke with the help of those ridiculous shoes. It wasn't often that his advance and a line like that, stupid as it was, hadn't earned him a quick jaunt off to the bathroom or to someone's place with a bit more convincing. He'd had his own special way of doing that but he wasn't going to abuse it this time. No. He could have his fun for once. He wasn't that desperate. 

"Stuart," the boy announced as he helped himself to a seat beside the man. "Folks call me Stu, though. Stuart sounds too proper for me, don'tcha think?" He was all grins again then, those dark eyes formed into hardly-spottable crescents beneath the blanket of thick eyelashes around them. "And I'll take that drink. Surprise me, will you?" Somehow it had sounded like a challenge even if it was something like picking a random drink for him. "See if you can guess my favourite. If you can, I'll throw in a bonus later," he teased in a sing-song tone. Some self-assurance on his part; he was speaking as if he had already cinched the deal by using the word 'later'.

As for Stu's performance and the question as to whether this was the usual way he 'advertised', the answer had been clear the moment a clear and tinkling bit of giggling had burst forth from beneath the fabric pressed once more to his lips beneath his fingertips. "Mm, maybe?" Stu took to rolling up his sleeves again, a process that took a good few seconds. If he was going to be settling in for a drink he may as well get his hands free to hold it. 

Those dark eyes had narrowed in on that cigarette and soon he was shifting his hips, swinging his hips from side to side on the rotating bartop stool while keeping his chest in place by bracing his forearms down against the countertop. "I think it's a good way to show what I can do. That's not all I can do, mind you, but..." More giggling escaped, this time from beneath a trio of red-tipped fingers. "Getting ahead of myself there, aren't I? I don't even know how you like it.." Lucky for the stranger the bluenette was quite versatile, having learned many things over the years. He was positive that if given the chance he would absolutely blow the guy's mind.

"Since you got a couple questions, I get a couple," Stu announced suddenly, smile crooked. "What's your name and what's your fantasy?" His expression had become a little dreamy on that last word like he was really trying to sell the concept if it being well within Murdoc's grasp if he would just let him know.

~~ 

Up close, the kid in front of him had an almost doll-like appearance- doll-like if Tim Burton had been its maker. Everything about the blue-haired man in front of him was off, from his odd hair color, to his towering height and stick-thin frame, his pitch black eyes-… Well, no. Now that Murdoc was up close to the other man he could faintly make out a tinge of red from under those dense eyelashes, though it was so tough to be sure, what with all of the multicolored, garish neon signs surrounding them. Murdoc peered from over the length of his cigarette towards the odd stranger while taking a greedy inhale of smoke, noting the tell-tale way the other man was eying his nicotine fix. He huffed once when that proposition and sale price was repeated. Oh, Murdoc had heard him the first time, but he said nothing, just let the corners of his lips upturn.

This whole situation was a little too bizarre for Murdoc not to notice some red flags. That childish demeanor, the odd (supposed) eye injuries, that oh so quick offer of services. Its all a bit on the nose, really, as if this guy- creature, human or otherwise -had specifically searched Murdoc out for this, as if he somehow knew about the wrath demon’s clawing hunger. Suspicious, really. His voracious appetite may have been practically possessing him that evening, and that sweet smell was damn near intoxicating up close like this, but Murdoc’s wasn’t stupid. His bar mate accepted his offer for a drink, with a tacked on little challenge, and Murdoc beamed. “Hm… Y’look like the kinda fella who’d be into mint,” He flagged the barhop over, and once he’d got the guys attention, he jabbed a thumb in the direction of the other man. “Mojito for my colorful friend here,”

“Name’s Murdoc by the way. Lovely to meet ya, dear Stu,” He said cheekily. In front of them, the bartender got to work after a cheery little you got it thrown Murdoc’s way. He drummed his black nails rather rhythmically against the wood in front of him, his eyes fixing on the few leaves of mint dropping into that metal shaker. A pinch of sugar was sprinkled in, muddled against the cool basin of that glass with a long wooden pounder, and as the skilled bartender made a reach for a tongs-worth of ice, he let his eyes wander over to the other man’s garish outfit. He eyed up the other with interest, particularly that alluring red top, the way it hung on his hips, his sharp jawline, the peak of red-tipped fingernails from those massive sleeves… 

The pair of them had very different fashion tastes but didn’t look too out of place next to each other. Murdoc had a thick, studded leather jacket clinging to him, hung on over a paisley, rich colored shirt with its buttons unfastened down to his sternum. An upside-down cross was barely visible from beneath the fabric, tarnished and brass against the sparsely hairy center of his chest. Blue jeans were fastened to his slim hips with a thick leather belt, the skinny ends of which were tucked into a fine looking pair of Cuban leather boots. The bar tender in front of him began to shake Stuart’s drink vigorously, and the loud sound snapped Murdoc out of it long enough to glance back up to the strange boy’s black eyes. He’d asked for a fantasy too, Murdoc realized. He clearly knew what the other was getting at here, but he opted to feign ignorance instead, chuckling once and tapping his chin with a grumble.

“Right now? Oh, fantasizing about a fat Cuban cigar and some chips,” Murdoc pats his stomach once for effect, watching as Stuart’s drink was set down in front of him, a tiny black straw dipped into its chilly contents. “You’re quite used to blokes fawning over you right out the gate, aye?”

Stuart certainly seemed the type, the pride was just dripping off of him, lust and need stronger than any human he’d smelled in a while, it was nearly overwhelming. The man exuded pure sex, and Murdoc was baffled and awestruck. As tempting and indulgent as a quick romp in the bathroom stalls had sounded before, there’s something else he’s craving from this prideful creature, a kind of game. No need to feed that ego, Murdoc wasn’t after a hefty dose of pride, but dribs of annoyance and the beginnings of wrath- lust would undoubtedly come later. If he was lucky, the guy wouldn’t just be horny by the end of this, but horny and pissed, a delightful little combo that was worth the wait of pushing Stuart’s buttons. 

He orders a third drink, puffs his cigarette. Murdoc wanted to gauge how much Stuart’s childish, innocent yet promiscuous demeanor would crumple under some minor annoyances. The demon’s beverage takes less time than Stu’s had, set in front of the older man so he could wrap his fist around it, and pull it closer to him. He kicked his heels up onto the little bar under his stool. “That’s my first question, Stu, since we’re playing this little game of 20 questions, heh. My other one is this- what the fuck is wrong with your eyeballs?” He gestures vaguely towards the other with two knuckles with a chiding little snicker, then takes a sip of his drink with a little exasperated looking head shake.

~~

The longer Stu remained close to Murdoc the more obvious it was that something wasn't right about the strange youth. The entire nature of him had seemed warped somehow but it was hard to place one's fingers on exactly what was wrong. Even his behaviour was an odd mix of something that half seemed put on for effect, perhaps to draw a certain type of crowd, but it also had seemed terribly natural for the bluenette to act that way what with his outlandish appearance. Some people would have already been sick of his bullshit but the man he had scoped out from across the room didn't even seem to mind his shenanigans of odd questions and the challenge of a drink for some sort of dubious prize. 

Murdoc himself was a bit more easy to pin down for those in the know. Stuart may not have seen his previous slipping that had caused those fingernails on Murdoc's hands to turn to that inky black instead of the natural ones he'd walked in with but he could nearly taste the essence of the beast. It was just as sweet to the prostitute as his scent had been to the demon. The energy exuded by Murdoc by simply existing seemed to radiate from him and, whatever the blue haired stranger was, Stuart wanted to properly sample that oppressive feeling for himself. Just couldn't get too ahead of himself. He had to bide his time, play things out just a little longer. Hell, if he could convince the man for him to go elsewhere maybe he could earn himself a stay in the man's bedroom overnight. Wouldn't that be lovely?

When Murdoc had mentioned mint the karaoke kid's eyes had lit up and his brows hiked. "Crikey, s'like you've read my mind~ Are you a clairvoyant, Murdoc?" Stuart's voice had warbled in a sing-song way again and his eyes were held wide, hands coming up to the sides of his face in some sill copy of 'The Scream' or somesuch. It was probably his reaction to any drink considering his line of work but Murdoc could at least pat himself on the back still. He'd actually gotten one of the boy's favourite flavours so the singer had fully intended on throwing in something as a bonus. He just needed a better read on his partner to try and figure out just what the other man liked. He'd come up with specifics down the line anyway. For now his goal had been to get the both of them out of the bar. 

The boy's face cracked when Murdoc had replied in a way that Stuart clearly hadn't intended. It wasn't supposed to be some sort of throwaway bullshit fantasy but instead something more personal, something he could work to make a reality for his partner of the evening. Now, while he could very well assist Murdoc in finding those things that wouldn't be very fun for him so he simply had to decline. No hard feelings and all; just business. "Ughhh, how booooring," Stuart replied after his expression had recovered from that moment of almost irritated shock. Clearly the man wasn't stupid so why wasn't he just being honest? People were becoming less and less honest with what they had really wanted but that simply meant that Stu had to put his detective hat on. It was a sort of 'game' he greatly enjoyed and he was excited to start to try and figure out the puzzle of the demon beside him.

Stuart could feel the man's eyes on him. The interest. It wasn't a rarity for people to look at him and he loved every second of it. It could easily explain the colour of his eyes and hair and the garish outfit he was wearing. He wanted attention so badly that he simply had to demand it. His 'look at me!' presence was enhanced further by a sort of natural pull to his aura that felt almost magnetic. Like you wanted to look at him. Surely the rest of the bar, and the man beside him, nearly had that attention demanded of them through his performance. That's the way things always were and the oddity simply loved it. God, sometimes it felt like he could nearly get off with all those eyes on him. 

The boy reached to pick up his drink once it had been delivered and he lifted it with his left hand. The right had risen to carefully hold the straw between his index finger and thumb and then guide it up toward his lips so he could help himself to a bit of it. "Mm.. This bar has one of the better ones of these," he stated as he stared down at the glass, shifting it back and forth like his hips were still doing on the sea below him. The ice clinked and shifted in the container until he had ceased the movement so he could have another drink.

It was only after this second sip that he'd bothered to answer the question posed to him. He'd considered letting it slide completely just to be a dick but this john was one he didn't want to ruin his chances with just for a stupid laugh. "I kinda am, actually," he replied in full honesty. "But not you, mm?" Stuart had taken on an almost disappointed pout then, rotating the straw in small circles in his drink and ceasing the movement of his hips as he had bought his arms off the counter top. "Real sorry if I was reading you wrong, blud. I know not all of us are even half that way," Stu added softly. Clearly the man was interested, though. Stuart just had to play along and he just knew he would get what he wanted sooner than later. He could almost feel everything already. 

Stu's little personal bit of fantasy playing out in his empty head had left him with a lovely expression that had been suddenly cut short when Murdoc had mentioned his eyes. His jaw had set and then shifted like he was pushing his teeth together tightly behind those closed lips. With how the boy's eyes had narrowed one could assume it was a sore spot or something of the like but he'd almost seemed irritated rather than hurt. The right eye's lower lid twitched up a couple times, nearly imperceptibly. His nostrils had flared ever so slightly as the space above his upper lip had scrunched into a grimace of sorts, lips thrust forward and out in a pursed fashion once the expression was complete. He'd looked as annoyed as he did ridiculous.

"Bit rude, innit?" Stuart reached up and tapped the side of his own head just outside his orbital bone on his right. "They got messed up a loooong time ago," he said, the way he'd dragged out the word giving the impression that it had been absolutely donkey's years since whatever malady had occurred. "But I'm the kinda person that makes lemonade outta lemons, get me? Now I just make it a look," Stu announced with a proud grin, tucking that right hand's knuckles beneath his chin with his hand held flat, tipping up his head like a model and batting those heavy lashes with a bit of laughter in recovery from his earlier moment. Notably it had been a rather non-specific answer but maybe it was so traumatic he didn't care to talk about it? Maybe. 

Suddenly the kid had looked swiftly to the left and to the right as if scoping the place out before he had looked back toward his person of interest. "My next question, right? You got a place around here? Preferably close?" The blue haired stranger's eyebrows had given a little suggestive bouncing then as he took a small sip of his mojito. "I wanna have a conversation with you somewhere that's not so..."

The boy had paused mid-sentence to give a glance around the room, expression coiling up into something near disgust as he waved a hand, its fingertips bent inward almost like claws as he had given it a quick couple of rotations of the wrist to call attention to the space around them, "This. Do you feel me?" A sly smile appeared then before he'd teased, "Cos you could feel even more of me if we just.." His hand had gone down to the counter then, ring finger tucked in against his palm as he let his hand 'walk' across the counter for a few moments quite like Thing from the Addams Family before his hand had swept up with its index extended toward the door. The little sort of 'fingering' gesture he'd done with a movement of his arm and a twist of his digit had made his intention crystal clear, like it hadn't been already, and was wholly unnecessary but he'd seemed so pleased with himself to have done it.

~~

Murdoc hardly was a mind reader- at least not like this, half starved with his powers running on fumes, but he’d always had a bit of a knack for guessing silly, specific things like favorite drink flavors of people. A pointless talent, but hey, it’d apparently won him some sort of bonus further down the line, how nice. He wet his lips with his tongue subtly at Stuart’s over-animated reaction to his guess. The kid could just be lying, he realized, trying to build a kind of rapport to get what he wanted, but Murdoc had a good feeling about his answer. 

Stuart’s petulant and frankly pouting response to his quip about cigars and snacks was met with a condescending sort of snicker. Murdoc brought his drink to his lips and took a nice long swig. He was already beginning to feel the effects of his previous two. His tolerance was a beast to deal with, but this place didn’t seem to water their drinks down too much, and the whiskey he’d been swilling was finally beginning to warm up the demon from the inside. He relished in the pleasant, fuzzy feeling, taking a slow drag of his cigarette and really savoring the smoke. Not only did it appeal to the addict in him, but Satan did it get his mind off how maddingly close he was to this stranger. Had they not been in public, Murdoc likely wouldn’t pounced the other man by now. He’d unsure of what he wanted more, to tear out that pretty throat with his teeth or fuck this “innocent” oddball into the floor.

“Mm, didn’t read anything wrong,” He assured gently. He may as well throw the guy a bone, right? Murdoc loved playing hard to get as much as the next guy, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere tonight if he didn’t start indicating his real interest a little. “You’re a bit of a spitfire, you know? Dunno what on Earth a guy like you is doing perusing such a crummy place like this. Must be easy to settle for the scumbags that drift in and out of here, I suppose,” He tapped his nails against his glass as he set it back down. Very slowly, the keratin was sharpening back into pointed tips, but it was so gradual the shift was almost imperceptible. Murdoc worried his teeth between his cheek, which felt a touch sharper than before. 

He blinks at the stern reaction to his next question. That annoyance was delightful, he could feel the bitterness spat in his quick words, heard the defensiveness behind Stu’s quick, vague answer. He wouldn’t pry, but he’s so interested in the strange things. He didn’t know eyes could do that- there were a lot of things that happened to humans that still surprised Murdoc and the possibility of learning a new brand of injury was more than tantalizing to the beast. Maybe he could try to replicate such a phenomena with one of his future victims. Now that all being said, Murdoc still wasn’t convinced he was dealing with a human, which was part of the reason he hadn’t taken Stuart by the arm and dragged him out of that bar whether or not he wanted to follow him. Had to play it safe, never knew when a hunter could be lurking.

Stuart next question was rather expected. The older man leaned back on his stool with a little huff while he watched those fingers walk across the bar then point so suggestively towards the exit. It was such a tantalizing idea, and Murdoc’s instincts were screaming at him to just say yes, but ever the junkie for build up and denial, the creature stayed put. He tapped his heel against the bar beneath his feet, dragged his slightly longer nail around the rim of his glass. If Stu was perceptive, he’d probably notice the new length the one blunt tips were sporting, though it wasn’t too incredibly obvious. At least Murdoc wasn’t shifting green yet. “Mm, sounds like you’re wanting a little more more than conversation, love,” He quipped, curling his palm into a fist and resting his cheek against it. “You’ve been awfully nonspecific about these services you keep prattling on about, what kind of businessman doesn’t at least have a sales pitch? A discount is a lovely start, don’t get me wrong…” 

He took a puff of his cigarette, let the smoke pillow out from his flared nostrils. “At this point its just a bit desperate, love,” He cracked the most condescending grin. He pulled his hand back from his drink, curling his fingers around one side of his leather jacket before pulling the fabric open to show off the tight fitting dress shirt beneath, only for a moment. “Gagging for it, aren’t you? I bet if I drew this out any longer you’d drop that price of yours down to free,” He let the leather hang back down, with a faint chuckle, finishing the last puff of his cigarette before ashing it in a nearby tray. He snagged another long sip of his drink, “I sure do have a place nearby, real cozy one,” Murdoc said, referring of course to his prized Winnebago, “But It’s my turn. Why should I bother taking some attention whore home with me?”

~~ 

Stu's eyebrows had risen in a pleasant manner when Murdoc had confirmed that he hadn't been barking up the wrong tree. Fuck if that wasn't at least a start of chipping away at the man's stubborn nature. It was quite annoying to have to put in this much work as Murdoc had been quite accurate in assuming that he often had people fawning over him from the beginning but in the same breath it was nearly fun. He hadn't had a challenge in a while and this was one, even if he already felt he was just one move away from checkmate already. Just the shift of a couple more pieces... 

Stuart's eyes had fallen and lingered upon Murdoc's finger as it had begun to trace the glass but he'd given no reaction to say that he had noticed anything amiss. They'd flit back up when Murdoc pointed out that he hadn't really explained what his 'services' entailed that the man was already promised a special price and a bonus on and had narrowed ever so slightly upon meeting the older man's. "Ugh... Usually I don't have to bother with a pitch is why," the boy replied, pouting again as he averted his gaze down to his drink. A sip later and he continued, "So now I guess I bloody have to, huh?"

There were a series of tuts and a shaking of Stu's head before he leaned forward onto the bar. Sounding bored, he levelled his gaze sideways toward the demon without turning his head his way and said, "Jack of all trades. Dom, sub, vanilla, BDSM, can sit and listen to all of your problems or work them out of you physically. You thought about it? I've prolly done it. No. Limits." The 's' on the last word was nearly hissed out from between those missing teeth with the aid of his tongue blocking the gap. 

"But, I mean, if you think I'm being desperate, it's whatever," the boy said blandly after a swift roll of his eyes. He'd taken the straw out of his glass and placed the rim of it to his lips, tipping it back and letting the ice bump his upper lip as he downed the rest of the concoction before setting it back down empty save for the muddled leaves and the ice that hadn't melted just yet. "Guess you shouldn't bother at all, huh?"

Stuart finally turned his head the other man's way, giving him a swift up and down and another soft tut though this one had sounded more disappointed than chiding like the previous. A little frown had pulled at the singer's features then and he raised a hand to sweep a bit of his fringe out of his face, tucking it mindlessly behind one ear even though it was undoubted that it would flutter free in a matter of time. "Shame. You looked like you coulda been fun. Thanks for the drink, luvvie!" 

Maybe this hadn't worked out exactly how the demon had expected it to. All that rapt interest from before seemed to have been obliterated in an instant and with a little grunt Stu had pushed himself up off of the stool and onto those boots of his. "I'd give you my number but... Eh, I just don't think we're compatible," the boy said dismissively before giving an almost sly smile before he had actually doubled down on what may have appeared to be a bluff and began to stalk off in the direction of the DJ booth so that he could put in a request for another song.

Despite his apparent lack of interest all of a sudden it had, indeed, been a bluff. A well acted one, though, and since they hadn't known each other it just seemed like more of his eccentric nature. He'd a feeling the bastard at the bar wouldn't do well with rejection and he was hedging his own bets on it. Didn't matter terribly much to him at the end of the day, though. As much as he wanted a taste he had many other options around and he himself didn't have that whole starvation issue going on either. . 

The ball was entirely in the demon's court.


	3. Cat n' Mouse

Safe to say Murdoc was equally as used to his victims falling to the whims of his supernatural charm right off the bat. He’d anticipated annoyance, but not this level. He’d wanted to be tempted and encouraged and practically begged to pay the alluring weirdo to his right some modicum of attention, he’d anticipated a flustered sad sap, mostly thanks to the innocent way the other man presented himself, wanted his ego to be stroked-… All he got was a grimace and the most even, perverse explanation of what the kid got up to in these seedy bars. No limits particularly caught Murdoc’s attention, wasn’t often he’d come across anyone just as perverted as he was, his own typical tastes certainly scared off most bar-goers and night owls. Murdoc’s eyes widened imperceptibly. It took everything in his not to gouge little groves into the bar in front of him with his nails. 

_Guess you shouldn’t bother at all, huh?_ Murdoc practically winced. What a devastating blow to his pride, his own coy strategy coming back to bite him. He hadn’t been called out on his bullshit in a long fucking time, this last time his mind games had been curb-stomped so effectively was with a lovely, bitch of a woman and part time Dominatrix, Fran Flesch, but that was back in the 1930’s, if Murdoc was remembering correctly. He’d pout and call it a night on any other occasion, he wasn’t someone you could toy with and bend to your whims, slick dance moves be damned, but tonight was a horrible night to be shut down. A sick slurry of panic and rage built in Murdoc’s throat, he wanted nothing more than to scream but fuck, wouldn’t that just look apeshit? Not to mention, such a violent show of real emotion would certainly have his disguise slipping from his fingertips, and he couldn’t have that.

He’s stuck in this sort of stalemate with himself. His pride was telling him to forget the cocky bastard and go after that busty bird for the quick fuck he needed. She was still over in some other corner of the bar, still guzzling down fruity cocktails at break-neck speeds. As Stuart turned away and Murdoc resisted the urge to reach out and snatch his wrist, the demon glanced around for said drunk floozy, but as soon as his eyes fell on her he felt… well, almost disgusted. It was like being presented a perfectly cooked filet mignon before its swiped away from you and having to decide between overcooked hamburger meat and chasing after the waiter like an absolute mad man. 

He growled to himself while he watched Stu saunter away. He didn’t need it that badly. He wasn’t going to stoop as low as to come crawling back after that absolute bogus display. Stuart wanted him, Murdoc could see it in his eyes and the way that performance had been sung directly at him, he could sense it in those coaxing little giggles and prying glances from pitch black eyes. _He shouldn’t be the one chasing anyone._ Still, Stuart held firm to his bluff, and damn if it didn’t work exactly how the bastard had probably predicted. Murdoc shook his head and tossed back his drink. He set the glass down hard against the bar, almost hard enough to crack it, and earned a bark of protest from the barkeep tucked behind it, something about being more delicate, to which Murdoc hissed, _“Sod it,”_ sternly. With that, he's shoving himself up to his feet, bar stool screeching as he pushed it backwards with his weight.

He practically stormed his way across the crowd and towards that stage. Like hell Murdoc was going to sit through another saucy performance, he simply couldn’t take another one, as enjoyable as it may have been in a less desperate state. He shouldered past a particularly broad gentleman without giving him a second glance, earning a slurred curse and some other insult the demon really wasn’t paying attention to. He was quite literally zeroed in on the blue-haired man who had so boldly brushed him off, pride be damned, every other human in this building held positively no value to the demon in that moment, he couldn’t even be bothered to look at them, just shove firmly past while making his way up to Stuart just before he’d reached the DJ’s booth. Finally, his hand shot forwards, fingers coiling vice-tight around Stu’s wrist and halting him firmly in his tracks. Standing up like this, and especially with those boots, it was easy to see Murdoc wasn’t the tallest of blokes, but he couldn’t be bothered to realize how pathetic he looked in that moment.

He tugged Stuart closer to himself by the grip on that wrist, hissing over the thumping music of the DJ booth a mere few feet ahead of them. “We aren’t fucking done here, Stu,” He said lowly, his rage slipping into his tone far more than he’d intended it to.   
~~  
Stuart had been well aware that he wasn't dealing with the average person when he was busying himself flirting with the stranger. There was something about him that the boy could tell wasn't natural but clearly it hadn't given him any sort of pause. He wasn't the only freakshow in town and with the places Stuart hung around he'd run in to all sorts. The current dive he was in was hoity-toity compared to some of the locales he frequented to peddle his 'wares' and he was no stranger to the darker sorts. Could almost say he had a preference for it so it had become easy for him to sniff out one of them. It was risky fucking with something with the aura that Murdoc put off but Stuart was no stranger to risk.  
Stu knew well what he had to offer and knew he carried a certain energy of his own. It had become clear, amplified even, when he sang his little song on the stage and had somehow garnered the wordless attention of the entirety of the bar. That definitely hadn't been natural either no matter how much of a showman he was. There was something almost mystical about the way he carried himself and dressed and acted as if he didn't have a care in the world.

Well, he had one thing to care about in the moment and it was coming up behind him quite quickly. . Stuart's wrist had been snatched quite easily and it had been comedic how he came to a sudden jolt of a stop, leg kicking out in front of him before snapping down as he tried to re-balance himself. It was mostly for show; he hadn’t fallen yet in those shoes so he knew how to carry himself in them even if he had been 'stumbling' about like he didn't know any better before. Slowly, he turned his head and looked back down toward the man who had grabbed his wrist and greeted him with a doe-eyed expression of curiousity. Like he didn't know what was going on.  
The kid was dragged easily down by his limb, knees bending to accommodate the differences in height. It had already been a good half foot before the shoes, after all. His surprised expression remained when Murdoc had leaned in to growl those words into his ear. _Ooh, he was pissed wasn't he?_ Good. That just showed how bad the demon really wanted him, didn't it?

Still, he wanted more. He wanted his adrenaline going, his heart racing. As fun as some sort of vanilla romp would have been he'd already had that earlier that day and wanted a bit of variety and this creature seemed like just the perfect specimen to really give it to him. What was the harm in going a little further? The demon had his fun toying with him and Stuart could do just the same. 

"I thought I was coming off as desperate," he replied, pouting. "You really hurt my feelings, y'know? So... Sorry, mate. I'm sure you're great fun and all but if someone's not interested, they're not interested, right?" As if what Murdoc had just done didn't prove his interest in the bluenette. "Can't win 'em all, yeah? Maybe this'll be a little lesson to just go with your gut in the future instead of playing games."  
Suddenly the git's smile had gone devilish between half-moon eyes, lower lids tucked up in glee. Oh, he damn well knew Murdoc had been toying with him and he wanted the man to know that he knew. That he'd gone and 'blown' his shot by trying to play hard to get. "Don't know what you got 'til it's go-oone~," he sang to the tune of the old song by Cinderella.   
~~  
“Oh _please,_ ” Murdoc rolled his eyes and gave an exasperated sigh at the mention of hurting the kid’s feelings. “Your feelings weren’t hurt, you just don’t appreciate a good challenge,” Murdoc did not let go of that wrist. The pair of them were quite the spectacle, a short, angry looking gentlemen pinning that rock-star looking bloke down by clutching one twiggy wrist. A few of the bar patrons muttered about it, a few possibly recognized Murdoc. He heard a few whispers about calling the bouncer over but the demon couldn’t be bothered. To stop making a scene. 

When Stu mentioned not playing games and the older man earned that cocky grin, his blood practically boiled over. God, he hated being seen through so easily, he despised that this odd blue-haired weirdo had caught on to his bluff so early. Humans were gullible and so easy to manipulate, being thrown off like this, especially in such a heightened state like he was, was beyond frustrating, it was humiliating. Stuart sung at him then, and the mocking notes grated on Murdoc’s patience like large-grit sandpaper. He grimaced sternly, baring grit teeth in a near snarl, his one gold canine glinting in the bright light of the stage- were his teeth always that sharp looking? 

“Fine, bastard, you called my bluff, aren’t you just _sooo_ chuffed with yourself?” Ugh, he could practically taste the pride, bitter and overpowering. He offered another yank to that wrist, someone nearby gasped at the possessive gesture, Murdoc paid no mind, his voice was starting to rise, he didn’t seem to care what people thought of him in that moment. “If you make me sit through another karaoke tune I’ll bash my _own_ fuckin’ teeth in. Either fuck off with me now or enjoy picking up one of the many hapless, piss-drunk, boot-licking broads instead you egotistical _loon._ ”

With a flourish, Murdoc dropped Stuart’s wrist and turned on his heel. He didn’t want to walk away, but on the same hand he definitely didn’t want to just keep practically begging for it in front of the whole dancefloor. He’d said his piece, and if Stuart really didn’t want to spend the evening with him, well, he suppose he’d settle for one of the shambling losers smoking spliffs just outside the doors to that club. Wouldn’t be nearly as much fun, of course, and he’d likely be picturing black eyes and blue hair the whole time, but at least he wouldn’t starve. He stormed off, right past the bar, making a clean exit for the doors even while that poor bartender tried to flag the bastard down to get him to pay his tab. Wouldn’t be the first time Murdoc left without paying, wouldn’t be the last. 

He’s pulling that pack from his pocket again with shaking fingers. God, he really was getting weak, his nails were even longer now, his own fangs pricking into his scowling lips. At least outside like tis the green tone of his skin was harder to pick up, the streetlights just dim enough to make it not too noticeable. He pushed a fag between his lips and lit it up with his zippo, taking a few hurried inhales before exhaling one big plume of smoke. The milky swirls drifted up into the cloudy sky above him, and Murdoc watched the transparent curls fade and then dissolve into the muggy London air. 

He stepped away from the exit just far enough so he could lean his back against a shadowed brick wall. He’d give it five minutes. Five minutes was long enough to get halfway through a cigarette and pick out a new target, and if Stu didn’t come out to accept his hurried, furious proposal well, he’d settle for someone far less interesting. Fuck the obnoxiously dressed weirdo. Who needed the headache? Once he had a full belly he's sure he'd be forgetting this unsavory experience in no time.   
~~  
It was quite true that the weirdo's feelings hadn't been hurt. He'd been rejected before like anyone else. Nothing new. He was just being a little shit because he damn well could. There were too many prying eyes, all pulled to them with the show that Murdoc was making, that the man simply couldn't risk actually laying a hand on him. Well maybe he could but he didn't strike him as the sort that would risk himself being cooped up in the clink to beat some odd faggy kid's arse because he revoked a proposition. 

When Murdoc had asked if Stu was pleased with himself the boy had bobbed his head up and down in a bunch of enthusiastic nods, eyes wide and bright with a sort of innocent smile that just seemed so absolutely vacant. If his eyes hadn't been focused on the other man's one could have easily assumed it was all going through one ear and directly out the other.

Murdoc had been allowed to say his piece, Stu just waiting with that same simple smile plastered across his mug. Then, when he had given his ultimatum the kid chirped, "Okay, bye." Just like that. That infuriating expression remained after Murdoc had turned away from him and he had raised one of his hands to wave goodbye quite cheerfully as he walked away, sleeve and buckle flapping around carelessly about him. Now alone, the interest in Stuart by his lonesome had waned and the kid slipped further into the place rather than heading toward the doors.


	4. L'appel du Vide

A few minutes were allowed to pass. Stuart couldn't let the creature think he was so keen that he would follow immediately. No, that wouldn't do. He'd wanted the demon riled up anyway so it seemed appropriate to delay things just a little longer. Then, the oddball had made his reappearance in a rather grand way. . Instead of exiting through the door like Murdoc would have understandably expected there had been a few odd thumps from somewhere above before a sudden flapping of fabric. Suddenly the boy was beside the man again, crouched down low from landing from his jump off of the roof of the building. Wasn't the tallest place in the universe but it was still taller than he was standing, even in the heels.

The movement had almost been eerie as Stuart slowly straightened his legs, letting his upper body and those ludicrous sleeves hang downward until his knees were locked. His shoulders rolled up and back and his spine followed suit until he was standing again. It could well have been something out of a horror film with how unnatural it had been. Just another bit of the kid being an absolute nutjob. He'd thought it was cool or funny and his pleased-as-punch expression had read as such, all teeth with his chin slightly upturned so he could look down toward the demon with those ghoulish eyes. . "I climbed out the bathroom window!" The announcement was as startling as his sudden entrance and equally as strange. "Then there was a dumpster so I climbed up and BAM!" He threw both of his arms into the air, sleeves following suit to flap in arcs before they fell toward the earth under the effect of gravity shortly after. He was being cute and overly animated again.

"You wanted to see me, right? So I am he-eeere," the boy purred before he had dropped his left arm. The right wiggled about until he had the sleeve bunched up around his shoulder and then he'd lowered that arm too, catching the fabric in the crook of his elbow to keep it up. That revealed hand with those red nails had the absolute nerve to snap out and snatch the cigarette from the demon's lips before it carted it to the freak's own and he took a long pull off of it. "Ta~"

~~

The minutes were ticking by, and Murdoc was starting to get antsy. He’d started chatting up with a goth looking woman who was standing nearby, who seemed just a bit too stoned to even register the points of bone starting to poke free of Murdoc’s dense mop of hair. The conversation was lackluster. Her name was Belle, she made a stale joke about the Twilight series and Murdoc nodded along like he was interested. He had to speed this along, maybe coax her into the alley nearby for a quick screw, or really, anything at this point, but their dull conversation about which clubs were their favorite to visit was cut off when a certain gangly freak hopped down just beside Murdoc. 

By this point, he was noticeably more green than before, clearly on edge because as soon as that weirdo thunked down next to him Murdoc jumped about a foot in the air and gripped at his chest with a sharp gasp of shock. _”Sweet, merciful fucking Lucifer-”_ He hissed, taking a longer breath once he realized who it was. The girl beside him was equally as frightened, but also clearly too blitzed to have any real concern for her own safety, considering just how mental Stuart looked. Her makeup caked features lit up with delight once she recognized the strange face. “Oy, you’re that dude who was belting Fiona Apple a bit ago, weren’t ya-“ She started, but the demon beside her halted her excited tittering with a wave of his palm.

“Yeah yeah, very talented tosser, mm? Off with you now, me and big boots are trying to have a conversation here,” He was met with a furious glare and a stunned silence. How dare he, after showing such (apparent) genuine interest moments before? She opened her mouth to protest, and Murdoc cut her off again, “I said beat it, munter!” He spat with venom. Turned from the taller, Stuart would likely notice the beginnings of a tail snaking out from beneath his leather jacket while his temper spiked. It was clear poor Belle was the older man’s plan B, in that moment, and with a frustrated noise and after grinding her roach under one of her pumps she stormed back inside. Thankfully she was gone before the bluenette snagged his cigarette, saving Murdoc just a bit of embarrassment as he pulled a bewildered face. 

“Fucking took you long enough,” He huffed, opting to surrender the fag to Stuart and pull out a second one of his own with trembling fingers. He was not in good shape at this point, his annoyance palpable in the air between him. He’s trying to play it cool as far as how damned desperate he was, but with his hunger making his temples throb in time with his quickening heart beat it was so very tough to keep it under wraps. He lit up again, taking a long drag then exhaling gruffly.

“So, are you planning on blowing this dump with me, or what? Not exactly in the mood to mince words any longer, mate, and this whole act of yours is getting on my bleeding nerves,” Murdoc motioned vaguely up and down Stuart’s lithe frame, before tucking his clawed hand back into his pocket. “Bit of a spell breaks at midnight sort of situation I’ve got going here, dunno if you’ve even noticed, you spacey cunt. Can’t exactly drag me off anywhere anymore without a good helping of odd glances,” He was referring of course to his new, green complexion, horns, ears and tail, but he wasn’t specific, hell if he knew the guy’s state of mind, for all he knew he could be acting so bizarre because he was blitzed on ecstasy, maybe he hadn’t even noticed Murdoc’s new, odd appearance. Stu looked the part, honestly. 

“My place, then? Money’s no object, I should mention, if you’re still looking to charge me,”

~~

2D had at least been polite enough to have given Belle a little bit of a wave when she had recognized him from his earlier performance. Was always nice to think that he had fans. But she hadn't been the person he'd wanted to induct into his fanclub. No, sir. That honour went to the man who was now shooing the poor woman away. The boy flashed her an apologetic sort of smile which wasn't really paid much mind but he'd felt 'better' in trying to be nice about things. Wasn't his intention to go make the demon ruin the poor woman's night! 

"Mm, you said I was talented. 'Preciate it," Stu said slyly from around the stolen fag that was held between his soft lips, bouncing with each syllable that left them. He was unbothered with how antsy Murdoc was or the fact that the demon seemed upset with the fact that he had dared to make him wait a total of three damn minutes.

Stuart's eyes gave the man a once over when he had started to explain his current predicament to him and he had picked up on the further changes that had happened since he had stayed behind in the bar while Murdoc had stormed outside. Poor fella seemed in bad shape. Maybe if he hadn't been such a dickhead earlier the boy would have had some pity for him but as it stood he figured it was Murdoc's fault. If he had just played along he could have been sating his hunger but he'd gone and dragged shit out. Served him right. Notably, Stuart didn't seem intrigued nor alarmed. It was like he had already known and just gotten his confirmation and nothing more. 

Stuart had remained silent for a few seconds when the man had suggested that money was still on the table. God, who was the desperate one now? Talking earlier about how Stuart wanted him so bad he'd do it for free and now he was offering to throw untold amounts of cash at him for a chance to get him to go along. He felt like he had the man wrapped around his little finger and damn if he didn't love it. Another calm drag was taken from that dwindling cigarette before he exhaled the smoke in a soft blow toward the other man and flicked the dogend of the thing to the ground before he had done as Belle had done and put it out beneath his boot.

"We can negotiate fees afterward, mm?" Hell, Murdoc may well have been intending on doing worse than roughing him up a bit so there was a chance that even if the man paid Stu before they got up to whatever the night would bring them to that he wouldn't be walking out with cash anyway. It was a risk the boy took each day he had gone out to hustle, demon or otherwise. What was fun about safety anyway? Being risky was so much more fun. 

"And I dunno if you're still gettin' that bonus, blud. Kinda almost ruined the vibe back there, y'know? We'll see, though... Discount still stands, mind, but that one I'm gonna have to think about." Stu smiled sweetly although he was just denying things from Murdoc to be cruel. "That saiiiid, lead the way, Murdy." Figured the demon wouldn't appreciate the pet name so of course he'd used it. 

Stuart was ready to follow the man wherever they planned to take them whether it really ended up being his place or some back alley instead. He'd not known this man from Adam, after all. Could end up in the back of a trunk and on the news a few days later when his corpse showed up somewhere. Or he could get a proper dicking down and enjoy himself for another evening of his existence. Total crapshoot. _That's what made it so exciting._ Just what would his new partner do to him or have him do? He couldn't wait to find out.

~~

Stuart’s brief appreciation for Murdoc’s pseudo-praise was met with a scowl and the briefest glare. The sound of stomping pumps was momentary before the pair of them were once again, alone, this time far more “alone” than when Murdoc had yanked down Stuart’s arm in front of a crown of confused, vaguely concerned on lookers. Out here the streets were mostly empty, which was good news for Murdoc since his long, slim tail was becoming quite a hassle to keep under wraps. There’s a moment where the demon tried to snake the slender length around one of his own legs so it was at least partially concealed by the leather of his jacket, but the pointed appendage was not having it. His control was slipping away quicker than he’d care to admit.

He felt Stuart’s eyes wander over his frame after he’d given up playing the subtle game as far as his appearance went. He didn’t know what to expect, honestly, but he was damn anxious. If this guy decided to flip out on him over some horns, fangs and a tail then Murdoc would be shit out of luck. Fortunately for him, the taller man hardly seemed concerned, in fact there was this expression etched into the bluenette’s features like Murdoc’s odd appearance had only confirmed his suspicions, like Stu had expected it. Alarming, vaguely, but Murdoc was in no spot to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Stuart mentioned negotiating a price afterwards, and the cheapskate in Murdoc wanted to demand it now, so he’d know how big of a hit his wallet was going to take, maybe haggle or barter for something of value like the greedy, bitter demon he was, but he had no time anymore to be a jackass. The usual personality he painted on for humans was wicking away awfully fast for this whacky character, from the way the demon looked to the bullshit he tolerated. Stuart could’ve said a _cool million_ pound and Murdoc would’ve found a way at this point. The other man mentioned a lack of a reward, and the demon couldn’t care less in that moment. He dropped his half-finished cigarette onto the concrete and repeated the motion Stu and Belle had, tucking his pack back into the pocket of his jacket right next to his zippo. 

“Great, I don’t care,” He said flatly in reference to losing whatever spectacular bonus being good at guessing drink preferences had gotten him. The words gifting Murdoc permission to lead the way were barely out of Stuart’s mouth before the shorter was again gripping his palm around the younger man’s wrist and all but dragging him down the alley the pair of them had just been standing in front of. There wouldn’t be anymore wasting time, no more vague flirtations or playing dumb- Murdoc would likely kick himself later for using one of his own tactics so ineffectively. How embarrassing, to be reduced to near begging, especially for a creature like him.

He’d have a way to get out his frustrations quickly enough, though. Little blessings. His boots crunched into the gravel of the alley they were tramping through with a purpose, echoing off the shadowy brick walls around them in an eerie sort of way. From the look of it, he was just dragging this oddball singer off to the very end of this alley for god only knew what, but thankfully it wasn’t a dead end as it first appeared, and once they reached the end of it, Murdoc was able to take a sharp left down a cobbled, more hidden road. Fifty meters down from the dive’s closest alley was Murdoc’s prized possession and lair, his Winnebago. 

He only released his vice grip on Stu’s wrist once they were right outside the vaguely ominous looking vehicle. The hand previously wrapped around Stuart’s limb tucked away into his pocket so he could extract a simple keychain, and shove a worn, flame-painted key into the door’s lock, before yanking it open with fervor. He exhaled a sound of relief through his nostrils, holding the entrance open for Stuart and motioning vaguely up into the dark interior. “Go on,” He encouraged the other man, waiting the beat it took for Stuart to clamber inside before he followed quickly after himself.

The Winnebago was, in short, a damn mess. Bottles strewn everywhere, various runes and tabloids tacked up on the walls, absolutely plastering most surfaces with a mixture of odd doodles and music-related articles. The bed tucked off into one corner was unmade, various illicit paraphernalia scattered about on the grimy looking floor and shelves, though the demon had enough sense to leave himself a clear path for stumbling towards the mattress on particularly booze-fueled evenings. There’s a few well-used blood red candles speckled about in various places, all unlit for the moment, hardly visible if not for the bright red car alarm indicator illuminating the space in a frightening crimson glow. Behind Stu, Murdoc was shutting the door, turning the lock there, and tucking his keys into his pocket again. 

~~

Stuart had let his arm be taken without hesitation and hadn't bothered to keep up his clumsy facade with his shoes lest he actually trip and delay things further than they already had been. He'd given himself away with that jump from the roof and landing like a damn ninja rather than the klutz he oft appeared to be but Murdoc wasn't keeping his secrets anymore and Stuart's lack of clumsiness was hardly his biggest. He'd had no trouble being dragged off then and he'd even begun to hum a little as they walked. Could have been being led to his certain doom and he would have been none the wiser by the looks of it. Poor fool. 

Even as the pair had worked themselves deeper through the confines of various alleys into an even more shady looking one there had been no hesitation on the boy's part. Either he knew he could take care of himself or he was just incredibly thick to trust an absolute stranger, now revealed as a demon, to drag him off to god knows where for the promise of a good time. Judging his actions so far in the evening it was honestly hard to say which was the truth. Surely he wouldn't have survived in his occupation without a few shady situations so he must have been somewhat capable even if he didn't appear to be.

Before terribly long they had come to a stop in front of a rather shady looking dwelling in the form of that Winnebago. Stu glanced at Murdoc with a curious expression as they had approached the door. Hmm. Wouldn't be the best digs he was going to try to snag a night over at but it definitely didn't seem to be the worst. Stu's humming had continued as Murdoc unlocked the vehicle and told him to enter which he had done, yet again, without even thinking twice about it. 

Stepping in, Stuart looked around a little in the dim light of the area. He couldn't see every detail but he could see that the place was a fucking wreck nonetheless. "Should get a cleaner in 'ere," he stated blandly as his eyes swept the room. His gaze had been drawn to the various runes first and then the other trappings of the space. This man was definitely a bachelor which Stu always took as a good thing. Meant no partners or risks of being walked in on. Definitely not now that Murdoc had locked the door, anyway, but it also meant no possible annoyances after the fact if the deal they'd made were to be found out. He'd had a few angry girlfriends and boyfriends on his tail before, but he'd usually just skipped town for a while until he thought things had blown over when such a thing occurred.

"Aw, an aisle, how cute," Stuart chirped as he had pointed one of those sleeve-covered hands in the direction of the cleared pathway back toward the bed like he was actually impressed or it was a purposeful choice of decor rather than clear laziness on the demon's part. He turned then to face Murdoc once more, having had his fill of looking around the trappings of the mobile home. 

Stepping backward now, and with no difficulties from his platforms, he had somehow followed that path back to the bed while facing Murdoc all the while. Doubtful that he didn't want to turn his back on the man or anything since he'd wandered in without worry. Likely he was just showing off another odd talent. Once the back of one leg had brushed the edge of the bed Stu let himself flop backward, grunting as his arse settled into the mattress beneath him. Not the softest but it'd do. 

The boy rolled his jacket off of his shoulders and withdrew his arms from the sleeves. They were thin with a light amount of muscle tone. Enough to suggest activity but not to the extent of actually building muscle. The entirety of his arms and shoulders were revealed thanks to the garment that climbed up his throat in blood red. "Heaven help me for the way I am," he sang in a callback to his previous performance though there hadn't been any sexy moves this time around. Just a tossing aside of that jacket. Custom number. Didn't want it ruined.

"Save me from these evil deeds before I get them done..." The next line was sung with his eyes locked on the other creature in the room instead of down as he focused on finding a safe spot for his jacket. "..Or don't," he'd added in his normal speaking voice, laughing. "I don't wanna be saved from what we're gonna do." Oh, how eager the poor boy was, still ever unaware of whatever it was the monster across the Winnie had planned.

~~

Murdoc had gone pretty quiet as soon as the pair of them had stepped inside, it was… perhaps a bit frightening, considering how quick he’d been to retort or snap back with an angry comeback or rude name not ten minutes prior. That odd, dark aura around him was only growing, though Murdoc clearly didn’t know that Stuart was aware of such a thing. It was this strange, pulling sort of sensation, vaguely familiar to the thrall Stuart’s earlier performance had, but with a distinct note of dread. The same kind of strange pull that the ground held when one was standing too close to the edge of a high cliff. _L'appel du vide,_ some might call it. 

He doesn’t react to Stuart’s tittering, the comments about his living arrangement, or even his teasing singing as he pulled that ridiculous looking jacket off of his slim shoulders. His eyes followed the other man quite flatly as he made that trip so effortlessly through the mess that divided Murdoc’s home in half. His one red eye was glowing brightly, now that they were in the relative darkness of the demon’s odd choice of lair its threatening glow was easy to pick out, mimicking the bright crimson pouring off of the dash from that indicator light. Murdoc balled his hands into little fists at his sides, the low crackle of knuckles popping vaguely audible over the end of Stuart’s teasing. Of course he didn’t want to be saved, the boy had brought this all upon himself after all, following such a clearly half-deranged beast back home.

“Are you finished?” Murdoc replied, staring down the younger man from the other side of the aisle he’d just pranced down. It was his turn to strip down. His jacket was shrugged rather unceremoniously off his shoulders, before he turned at the hip to drape the fine black leather delicately over the back of driver’s seat. His button down came next, unfastened button by button until the colorful garment hung over his broad shoulders quite loosely, untucked from that denim. In the dim, it was nearly impossible to make out the details of the skin Murdoc had revealed, but Stu could faintly make out what looked either like a network of scarification or tattoos swirling across the demon’s chest. His shirt he was a bit less careful with than his prized jacket, the silk fabric was dropped on the ground beneath his feet without a second thought, leaving only low-slung jeans, a thick belt, boots, and of course, that upside down cross hanging right beneath his pronounced collarbone. 

Murdoc took a heavy step forwards, and as soon as he did, there was a faint woosh of air rushing through the center of the vehicle. All at once, every single crimson candle throughout the cabin flickered on, tiny flames bursting and setting every single wick alight in one fell swoop. Murdoc saw no reason to play down his powers at this point, making candles flicker on was nothing compared to his disguise so it was accomplished easily, not to mention, it was one hell of a show. Stuart wasn’t the only performer here, it seemed.

The cabin was bathed in flickering orange light, and finally, Stu could clearly make out the odd patterns combing over Murdoc’s torso in decorative sweeps. A pentagram inked in navy blue hugged his right shoulder, odd runes and symbols sweeping out from its diameter in raised scars and the occasional splash of red ink. Unclear what they meant really, but oh, _what an image._ Murdoc made somewhat of a show in rolling his shoulders and neck, low grunt escaping him as he stalked down the center of the cabin with his spaded tail sweeping predatorily behind his approaching frame. As he walked, his claw tipped hands sunk low on his frame, fingers hooking into the leather of his belt to slowly unfasten the strip from his beltloops.

At the foot of that bed where Stuart laid sprawled out, the demon came to a halt. He folded the leather in his grip in half, before pulling it tautly between his two mitts, a menacing snap sounding out as it went bolt straight from the sharp yank. Murdoc tilted his head a bit, tsking at his partner’s state of dress. “All of it,” He said vaguely, one glowing eye and its dull twin darting down to Stuart’s clothed chest before flickering back up to those black eyes. “Unless you want that pretty outfit in ribbons, Stuey, you’re taking all of it off, and I’m not doing it for you,”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find art for this au on @bluenanners and @stupotato on tumblr!


End file.
